Page 4 of Dirty Rumors

But then I saw Nikki get into that old car and something inside me…clicked? Snapped? It was like a missing puzzle piece dropping perfectly into place, and suddenly the entire picture came into focus.

I jump into my truck, change my t-shirt and throw on some deodorant, then drive into town. Old Hemlock Valley is spread out over a beautiful forested area, and the surrounding plains are rolling farmland. But the town itself is pretty much Main Street, Second Street, and Lizbeth Avenue, named after the wife of Adler Wolfe, the main founder of the community.

Driving slowly through the streets, I peer into every shop, looking for the girls. I see Harper in the window of Corina’s Coffee. The other girl…something beginning with a J, I think…is on a bench in front of the library. Sure enough, when I get to Fran’s Diner I see Nikki in one of the center booths.

I park, then stroll in casually as if I have no idea she’s there. Luckily, the industrial coffee maker is shiny enough that I canclearly see her reflection in it. Nikki’s eyes jerk up, staring at me, then dropping down again.

“Coffee, sugar?”

“Yes, please, Myrna.” While she pours, I grab a napkin and borrow her pen from the end of the counter. “Could you please send a slice of your finest apple pie along with this note to the long-haired girl behind me?”

Myrna smirks, shaking her head as she plates the pie. I write, “May I please join you?” and fold the napkin in half, then slip it onto the side of the plate.

The room is quiet enough for me to hear Nikki’s surprised, “What’s this?”

Turning to glance over my shoulder, I watch as Myrna leans in a bit. “He’s probably got a crush, honey. For what it’s worth, he’s a really nice guy.”

I slowly take a sip of my coffee, then look back again. Nikki smirks and rolls her eyes. Then she nods at me.

I take my coffee over to her booth, sitting across from her. Damn, she is beautiful. Long, wavy honey-brown hair. Big brown eyes. Deep pink lips that honestly make me want to climb over the table to kiss her.

And she doesn’t want to date me. I’ll have to tread lightly.

“Thank you.” I flash her what I hope is a winning smile. “For the record, this is not a date. It’s simply conserving tables because it’s so busy in here.”

She snorts lightly. The diner is barely half-full. “Thanks for the pie. How did you know I like apple?”

“Because of the look in your eyes when you had those cookies yesterday. You liked that the raspberry wasn’t too sweet.”

Her luscious mouth falls open for a second. “How…”

I burst out laughing. “Actually, that was a total guess. Was I right?”

She squints at me. “I think you’re officially what my mother would call a rascal,” she laughs. She takes a small bite of pie, then closes her eyes blissfully. “The food in this town is fantastic, you know that?”

“Indeed. One of the many reasons that you should stick around for as long as possible.”

The music is faint, but Nikki’s chin jerks up in recognition when the song changes. “Sweet! This was always one of my older sister’s favorites.”

We start talking about music as we both enjoy our coffee and she eats her pie. The conversation dips and swoops from music, to diners across the country, to movies, to the most hilarious websites out there when you need to turn your brain off for ten minutes.

After she asks me a few questions about our family business, she pushes the empty plate away, then stares at me with a strange grin. “So… You come from a family of auto mechanics.”

“Yes.”

“And your name is Carson. Car-Son. Is that the ultimate dad joke or what?”

I laugh, reaching out to tap her hand so casually I’m not sure if she even registers it. “Yeah, he slipped that one right past Mom. It wasn’t until my fourth birthday that it hit her.”

“So you also come from a long line of rascals. Good to know.”

My knee taps hers under the table. “You just said that you’re mentally filing away information about me. That means you’re interested in me.”

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“Strange. That’s what I heard.” I walk my fingers across the table, hop them up onto her hand, then do a little high kicking dance before retreating again. “How old are you, Nikki?”

She was laughing, but now her eyes narrow. “Twenty-one. You?”

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